She placed the quill into Tyrssen’s outstretched hand with bad grace, and stared at Falthejn’s letter. One moment, there was nothing. The next, there were two new postscripts. A moment after that, there had always been three postscripts.

She stared at them, willing herself to remember that she had watched them appear a mere few heartbeats ago. It made her head hurt.

“That was weird,” Lilja said.

Passing by on his way back from the storeroom, Tyrssen said, “He told me to tell you it serves you right, fiddling with time like that.”

Sif glared, but he had already moved on. She sighed.

“So, what do we do now?” said Einar. There was a determined set to his face.

Sif studied him, then Lilja. Both of them watched her, waiting for an answer. She didn’t think of herself as a leader. It wasn’t in her nature. Besides, although she didn’t like thinking of herself in such terms, she was getting used to being a child. She had been responsible for herself for all her life. She had hoped to enjoy it being someone else’s job for a few years.

But here were her friends, looking to her. She didn’t think of herself as a leader, but it wasn’t in her nature to let people down, either. It always seemed to happen this way. People expected her to take charge, and so she did. She tapped the letter. “I guess we do what Falthejn Arnarsson says. I trust him. I’ll talk to Herre Leifsson this evening. We should go visit Falthejn’s conjurer soon.”

Lilja and Einar nodded along.

“After that…” Sif looked past her friends. The sun was burning off the fog. She could see some of the city now. In the distance was the tower of the Akademi, the tallest building in the city by far, surrounded at its peak by swirling clouds. “After that, I don’t know. We keep our ears to the ground, and see what we hear about the Shining Hand. What do you think?”

Her friends exchanged a look. Einar cocked his head to the side and lifted his shoulder. Lilja said, “We agree.”